


Vallaslin and First Kiss

by Masmkasm



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Backstory, F/M, First Kiss, origin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:03:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4429433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masmkasm/pseuds/Masmkasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quick short story about my Inquisy and her first kiss with her bf mage man</p><p>Better written than the summary I promise</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vallaslin and First Kiss

“I’d be interested on hearing your opinions on Elven Culture.”

“I thought you would be more interested in sharing your views on Elven Culture, you are Dalish, are you not?”

He was frowning at her, waiting for her to say something crass or make a rude quip about Halla, but she did not. She blinked a few times then gently ran a hand across her Vallaslin. She chuckled, like she’d forgotten it was there, and then slowly she shook her head and looked back to the Elven Apostate.

“I apologize, but I am not. I have met the Dalish, they are… Not what I would like to be.” She replied, her lips pulling into a coy smile and her hands tucking behind her back. She was… not what he’d expected. He anticipated a Dalish Mage who would push her beliefs on everyone in her vicinity. She was not this.

“It is I who should apologize, I should not assume your religion… but I must ask, are you Andrastian then?” The scowl that hit her face made him laugh; a full bodied laugh. “Ah, no I take it,” he said after a moment.

“No, I am not religious, I grew up…” she paused, her eyes jumping from one side of his face to the other, hesitant to tell him her story. But she gave in when his eyebrows rose, curious to know. “I grew up in a dancing troupe. They go to orphanages and pick us based on flexibility, age, gender sometimes even. I was in an Orphanage in Redcliffe; I was around four I believe when they plucked me.”

She stopped to make sure he was still interested, and to her surprise, he was listening with intent. They’d really only spoken about him, or the rift, or just in passing. In fact she hadn’t talked to anyone in depth really, but she trusted this Apostate.

“They taught me quickly, and I picked it up like a sponge. The leader of the troupe, Alexandra, was a mage. She sensed what I was, and almost sent me to the circle…” There was a twinge of anger in his eyes when she mentioned it. She would have probably been sent to the Kirkwall Circle, as that’s where they were near at the time. She shuddered to think of herself at such a horrid place. “But once I started dancing in the show, and fire came out of my mouth during a dance… the crowd loved it. And she refused to send me. Teaching me herself.

“I was put with 6 other elves and… well our group name was The Pantheon.” He cut her off there, with a sharp laugh and a quick question. “Which of the Pantheon were you pray tell?”

“… Fen’Harel.” She sighed. His face twisted into a wicked smile, and then his shoulders began to shake with stifled laughter. He cleared his throat, and then motioned for her to continue.

“I was the smallest, and for a while, the easiest to pass as a boy. Anyway, that’s mostly how I learned of the Elf history, plus the stories Da’renan would tell. She played Mythal.” She thought that would be all he would need, but the look in his eye was asking for more, more history, more of her.

“It was… it was a hard night, leaving. I didn’t have a choice really…” She thought to lie, to tell him some gigantic fib about how she’d been kicked out, or tossed aside… but she couldn’t imagine her old friends treating her so poorly.

“It was Templars. They came to watch the show, a group of them. It was a Friday, so we were doing the Pantheon’s story… It involves a lot of me jumping around and making ice. They didn’t enjoy it. Or maybe enjoyed it too much. They found us after and… I was seventeen at the time, just a girl. They tried to…” the look on her face made Solas tense with rage, he hadn’t intended to make her relive such horrible memories, but she continued, describing the man’s actions.

“He pushed me against the wall and tried to rip my costume off, but he dug to deep, cut into my side in a few different places. When I cried he ripped the other side, I didn’t realize it then, but he had these gloves on with sharp finger tips. Da’renan showed up just as my hand started to burn into the side of his face.

“I tried to run, but I ran my foot over the man’s sword, slitting it open. I bolted to the forest, living as an apostate until the news about the Conclave reached me. I went to… I don’t know. Watch? Help? I didn’t really think about it. I just knew I had to go.”

“Destiny of sorts then? But that doesn’t explain the Vallaslin.” Solas said, trying to divert the conversation from her almost rape at such a young age. She nodded with a smile. “Yes, yes, I forgot. I got them to hide myself, I’d once said I’d never let the slave writing on my skin, so… If my troupe were ever to see me, they wouldn’t look twice.” She wrung her hands together. “I hate it honestly. People always assume I’m Dalish.”

Solas held his hands up in defense, “If you like… I know a spell.”

She looked up quickly, not realizing she’d even looked away from him. Her eyes were burning, begging, and he chuckled again at this small elf he’d only just met a few weeks ago. She grumbled at his laughter, but her eyes still glowed with hunger for his spell.

“Not here… Come.” He said, placing a hand on her back and guiding her towards the gates.

 

They walked into a small area, a pond that should have been frozen, bubbled with life, bugs and frogs hopping around it. “The veil is thin here; can you feel it tingling on your skin?” He asked, and she nodded, breathing in deeply. She did feel it, a small tickle across her back, her arms vibrating with mana. She moved to it, guided by the veil, it pulled her and rolled across her skin. She hadn’t even noticed she’d started dancing.

She moved her arms and swayed her hips, kicking her feet into the air with a laugh, it had been too long. She landed and closed her eyes, magic bursting from her finger tips, she could feel the flames forming and trickling off her nails, but she reeled it in. Didn’t want the glade catching fire.

She stopped dancing and looked back to Solas, her breath heavy, he was watching from the side of the pond, his elbow resting on his knee and his other legs spread out. He was smiling, not wide or gleeful, but kind, soft. It was slightly unsettling.

She made her way next to the pool, sitting across from him. “I’m sorry, the veil just… I needed to dance.”

He shook his head, “No need, it was lovely, you should dance more. You’re incredibly talented.”

They sat silently, her face beaming with happiness at his praise; she’d rarely heard him say anything complementary. A comment on her footing while casting a spell maybe, once he’d said something to Cassandra that was close to a complement. But the seeker had taken it as an insult.

“Solas I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so horribly laid back.” She said with an airy laugh, he was leaning back, eyes closed, a smirk on his face. He had been listening to the pond, happy for the silence. He’d almost fallen asleep.

“I’ve seen you sleeping in the snow next to the Chantry.” He replied with the same tone, laughing. She jolted up, her shoulder jumping. “Wh-what?!”

He laughed again, noticing the way her ears perked and pinked when she was embarrassed. “I’m sorry but you did catch my tunic on fire. I found you, unconscious in the snow, at first I thought perhaps you were injured, but judging by the Elfroot lying next to you…” he didn’t have to continue, she was bright red. Her cheeks puffed, glaring at the pond.

“It helps me sleep!”

“In the snow?”

“Augh!” she threw her hands in the air then tucked them across her chest. “I couldn’t sleep inside, Josie wouldn’t stop bugging me about some dude who wants to take Haven, and Leli was interested in contacting my clan, whom I haven’t seen since I was four, to try and milk troops out of them! Oh but Cullen, Cullen is the worst!” She was shouting now, and Solas was watching with a devilish smirk. “Cullen doesn’t ask me for things, he doesn’t bug me, at all! He just stands there, and I’m like, hey Cullen do you need anything? Oh no, don’t worry about me, I’ll just be here with my perfect hair and chiseled abs- probably!” Her Cullen impression was spectacular, causing Solas to go into a fit of laughter yet again.

She was huffing and her cheeks were red, she’d ranted in front of Solas. Solas, the guy who she had been desperate to impress with her brain, or her magic, and she’d just ranted about Cullen and his maybe abs. She put her face in her hands and listened to him laugh. His voice was like honey in her ears, but she wished he was laughing for a different reason. Maybe her wit, or charm, this was just embarrassing.

He finished up his laughter, not without snorting a few times, even a small hiccup. She looked up to him, a glare in her eyes, but a smile quickly replaced it.

“Come, let me get rid of these horrible tattoos, I’m sure you’re ready to be a free elf.” He said, rolling up onto his knees and holding out his hands. She took them and sat up, still much shorter than him, but nodded. She was, it had been too long since she was bare faced.

He held his hands up, closed his eyes and started to cast. It was a quick enough spell, a bright blue light sweeping over her face as his hands moved down. He made sure to do it over her entire body, not sure exactly if she had the full tattoos or just the facial ones. She did in fact have them over her waist, so she was glad for his thoroughness.

When the spell was done, her eyes were closed. He peered into her face, her freckles ghosting the space where her slave markings once were. Her pink lips slightly open, her eyelids fluttering open and gazing back up at him.

“You are so beautiful.” He said it so softly she’d barely heard, but she did hear. She blushed; again, if she blushed any more she’d pass out.

His hand touched her face, his thumb tracing her cheek. Her breath quickened. She’d never admit how long she’d wanted to kiss him, to touch him, for him to call her beautiful. Since that first minute that he’d grabbed her hand, yelled at her, and thrust her towards the tear, she’d ached for his embrace. But as he drew closer to her, and she felt his breath against her lips, she trembled. Anticipation, fear, excitement, arousal, she didn’t know what was making her shake, maybe a mixture of all of them.

His nose brushed hers warily, his eyes half lidded, gazing at her lips that felt so far yet were not even an inch from his own. He’d wanted this, he’d wanted her since that day he’d seen her asleep in the grass. Even as he’d carried her back to her bed, even as he scrubbed the charred bits out of his tunics that she’d burned, even as she’d fumbled over Cullen’s abs. Even though he knew the Iron Bull had had her.

She swallowed, hard, looked from his lips to his eyes, he wasn’t going to close the distance; he was allowing her to do it. Bless him. She leaned, just close enough for their lips to touch but not close enough for a real kiss. His eye twitched and he tilted his head into her.

The wait was worth it, she thought as their lips finally fell into one another. She could feel his hesitation, but she didn’t care, he tasted of magic and pine, and she was melting into him. His hand was still on her cheek, but it moved into her hair, pulling her closer to him. She put a hand on his thigh to keep her balance. Their kiss was desperate and hot, their lips crashing into each other again and again, trying to hold on to each other but it was never enough. As each kiss ended, a new, deeper one began, until her tongue was grazing his lips and he was groaning into her mouth.

Their tongues intertwined and the kissing became much more, her head began to swim, and her loins began to blaze. She’d never thought he’d be this skilled; an older mage hobo could not have had much experience with women. But as his lips moved from her quivering mouth and trailed to her neck, she started to think he was very, very, experienced.

He left a line of hickies on her neck, her moaning and gasping egging him on, until he reached her collar bone, and he had to stop. He was resting his head on her shoulder, breathing heavily when he finally spoke again, mumbling something in Elvish.

“You’re teaching me even word of our language that you know.” She demanded through her own heavy breathing. He laughed into her skin. “Starting with Fenedhis.” She added, seeing as it was word he’d just said, she wanted to know. He barked another laugh, and moved his head so he could look in her eyes.

“I would like nothing more… Ma Lath.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written entirely for my bea uhtsceatha.tumblr.com <3


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